Of my redeemed quickly draweth near: Go thou, anoint two kings, and, in thy place, A prophet to stand up before my face; Then he who 'scapes the Syrian's sword shall fall By his, whom to Samaria's throne I call; And he who 'scapes from Jehu in that day, Him shall the judgments of Elisha slay. Yet hath a remnant been reserved by me, Seven thousand souls, who never bow'd the knee To Baal's image, nor have kiss'd his shrine: These are my jewels, and they shall be mine, When to the world my righteousness is shown, And root and branch, idolatry o'erthrown." "So be it, God of truth, yet why delay ? With thee a thousand years are as a day; Oh! crown thy people's hopes, dispel their fears, And be to-day with thee a thousand years; Cut short the evil, bring the blessed time;, Avenge thine own elect, from clime to clime; Let not an idol in thy path be spared, TRANSLATION OF ELIJAH. 2 Kings ii. 11, 12. EDMESTON. By Judah's vales and Olive-glades, Should bear the prophet up to heaven. How fondly then ELISHA hung On all his aged master spoke! How dear each word, that from his tongue, Like dying farewell broke! Friendship's a sun, that ever seems Brightest, in its departing beams, And never to the full we feel The depth, and warmth, and force of love, Till death comes in, the gem to steal, And those so dear have pass'd above; They went along, and o'er their head, High in the fields of air; It seemed a SERAPH fair; The lurid flame in all its forms, To earth it came All share the fate which Baal long hath The friends who dearly lov'd it parted, shared! Nor yet seven thousand only worship Thee, Make every tongue confess, bow every knee; Its mantle round Then back to its own heaven it darted; Now o'er the promis'd kingdoms reign thy Followed his master to the skies, Son; One Lord through all the earth, his name be one! Hast thou not spoken?-Shall it not be done!" As we to-day Perceive the ray Of glory, when a Christian dies! Sweet parting this-but not for us To pass to those bright regions thus ; NAAMAN'S PRIDE AND We must go through the cold dark stream, FOLLY, &c. There might we, in this gospel-day, 205 And we scarce need wish for the car of And more than child-like whiteness gain. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, T |